In The Shadows
by astr0naut
Summary: John's been having strange dreams of this man in the shadows, and he assumes it's because he's going insane.
1. Chapter 1

I.

John paused to get rid of the lump in his throat. ".. I had that dream again."

"The one with him in the shadows of your room?" Ella asked.

"Yes." John adjusted how he was sitting. His hands were trembling; every time he recalled these specific dreams his heart fell to the bottom of his stomach. "He said different things again, too."

She leaned forward, intrigued. "And what did he say this time, John?"

He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. "Ah.. Well." He started to rub his temple. "He was saying something along the lines of.. 'I'm coming home soon.' Something like that. Ridiculous, right? My imagination's been crazy lately. The other day," he chuckeled, "I swear I saw him across the street when I was catching a cab.. grabbing a scone at this outdoor bakery, then he swept away around the corner." He looked down with a crooked smile on his face. Ever since Sherlock's fall, he's blamed any possible sign that Sherlock was still alive on his "imagination."

Ella's eyes shifted. "Have you been having any flashbacks?"

"Um.. Yes. I've- ah.. I've had a couple." He was hesitant. Ella didn't move; her eyes were locked on John's face, her expression didn't change, she didn't write anything down, her lips didn't even flinch. She always did that to force John to say what was on his mind because he hated to be looked at with such intensity. John continued. "Well.. I always tend to remember the first time I met him. He looked so cunning... And I... remember.."

She pulled out a pen and wrote a bit. "Remember?" Her focus was completly on the pad of paper until he spoke.

He nibbled a bit at his nail. "The.. reason why I started coming back here.. The last time I saw him. I have nightmares sometimes of seeing how pale his face was." Ella could hear the tone of John's voice change. It was a bit shakie. "They let me keep his scarf. I can't ever f-" He had the most difficult time holding back his tears. "I can't ever fall asleep without it. It still smells like him, too."

"And what about the violin? How's that?" She asked.

John grinned. "Terrible. Mrs. Hudson always says it's lovely.. But she's just nice like that." He laughed. The thought of his attempts at the violin helped distract him from the tears streaming down his face. "I've been trying to compose a song for him. But, better take baby steps... Sherlock would kill me if he knew I touched his violin." He sighed with a hint of happiness in his voice at the thought.

"It'll come along eventually. Things take practice." Ella sighed. "I suppose our session should be done now. You seem tired." She jotted something down on the small notepad in her lap, and continued to speak without looking up. "And I want you to start up that blog again. I think you've been more stressed than usual. Writing should help get thoughts out."

John noticed how much his hands were shaking. He leaned back and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. "No, no- I've been fine. Absolutely fine."

She looked up. "Please, John. It's for your own good." She smiled, reassuringly to John.

He stood up and slowly walked out, saying behind him, "If I can ever find the time."

II.

NEW MESSAGES:

_'No, this cannot happen. You know it shouldn't happen. -MH' _1:12 AM

_..._

_'Answer me now, damn it. This isn't a good idea. -MH' _1:15 AM

_..._

_'Sherlock, you imbecile. Stop fooling around and leave that flat. -MH' _1:19 AM

III.

The entire room was dark, besides the glimpse of moonlight shining through the window onto the wall. There was a click coming from the door, not loud enough for a human to know that it obviously came from the door, but loud enough for someone to acknowledge that it happened somewhere in the flat. The door silently slid open, and a dark figure slipped through it. The doow closed without a sound and the figure sat down in a chair by the window. The light revealed a man; dark hair, narrow eyes, and the sharpest cheek bones you have ever seen. A light buzz came from his pocket. He slipped his fingers into his coat and grabbed his phone.

_'Sherlock. This is getting out of hand. -MH' _

The edge of his mouth curved up.

_'I'm already here, Mycroft. -SH.'_

_'Get out. Now. Don't put him through this. -MH'_

_'No, this needs to happen. It's *going* to happen. -SH'_

He turned off his phone. Any distractions at the moment could throw him off and everything would tumble apart. He pulled out a flashlight from his other pocket and turned it on. A sharp light slowly danced across the walls and the floors, and the holder noticed every aspect of the room.

"Hm.." he softly said. "He's rearranged since the last time I was here."

The beam crawled up the wall and Sherlock's eyes lit up to see that the smiley face he shot at was still in its place. He noticed there were a couple extra bullet holes, so he assumed John was starting to get as bored as he did. The beam continued to glide around to see scattered papers across the table and books stacked on the floor. The room was in an orderly mess. He liked this. The beam went down to the floor. His violin case was open. Sherlock kneeled down to get a closer look. The violin had been used more from after he left. He knew this because one of his strings had been replaced and there was a brand new bow. He shufled through the papers next to the case. They were compositions; none that he had ever seen before. All were labeled, "To my Dearest Sherlock."

He scoffed. "Damn it, John. Why the hell would you touch my violin," he studied the papers more. "Though.. these comositions aren't.. half bad."

He stood up, swept the room with the light to make sure he put everything back in exact order, made sure there was no indention in the chair he sat in, and turned off his light. It was time to go to John's room.

IV.

The door slowly creeked open, but not loud enough to wake John. Sherlock slid into the room and behind a curtain. John moaned and sort of mumbled a bit. Sherlock noticed he's been doing that a lot lately. He walked forward towards the bed to look over John. He looked peaceful, but not as peaceful as the night before.

Sherlock started to speak in a low voice. "John. It's been a long time since you've seen me. I'm sure it's felt much longer for you, though. I realize I've hurt you.. I ca-" He could hear a tone start to build up in the back of his throat. It was an unfimiliar tone to him. It was a mixture of angst and remorse. ".. I can't bare to do this to you anymore." He walked around the side of the bed and leaned over to whisper in John's ear. "... I'm coming home, John."

John's eyes flashed open. He looked around the entire room, but the tall man had left without a trace.

V.

Sherlock walked the dark streets without a sound following him. He slipped out his phone to turn it back on.

NEW MESSAGES:

_'No, this cannot happen. You know it shouldn't happen. -MH' _1:12 AM, _'Answer me now, damn it. This isn't a good idea. -MH' _1:15 AM, _'Sherlock, you imbecile. Stop fooling around and leave that flat. -MH' _1:19 AM

Sherlock grinned. He loved messing with his brother; breaking the rules. It kept him from being bored.

_'I told him I'm coming home soon. -SH'_

_'You aren't really going to though, right? -MH'_

_'No. It's just an experiment. -SH'_

Of course, that wasn't the first time Sherlock had lied to his brother.

VI.

NEW BLOG ENTRY:

Hello Again.

"Hello. Ella has said that I should start this up again, unfortunately. I've been having the strangest dreams lately. About you know who. It's always been in my room, and he's always been in the shadows. Each and every time, he said something different. The first time was along the lines of, 'Nothing was ever your fault,' I believe. The second time was, 'Watch your back, John. Always watch your back.' Now, the most current one, he said, 'I'm coming home.' God, I think I'm going bloody insane. I just miss him. More than anything."

New Comment: "John, you have to let him go. It's for the best. - Molly Hooper"

New Comment: "maybe i could make you some brunch? to get your mind off things. - Mrs Hudson"

New Comment: "This Sherlock was a hell of a bad influence on you. Forget about him. - Harry Watson"

New Comment: "I miss you too, John. - Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock began to cry, to his surprise. Tears of joy. He was going to see his blogger soon. At that thought, his phone vibrated. He looked down at the screen.

_'You are in so much trouble. -MH'_

_..._

_'Thanks, mum. -SH'_


	2. Chapter 2

I.

_'Tell me, Sherlock. Why do you think this is such a brilliant idea? -MH'_

_'John is suffering from my loss, I'm assuming to a high extent, knowing him. It may traumatize him a bit when I return, but his happiness will restore afterwards. -SH'_

It was awhile until Mycroft messaged Sherlock back. It felt to him like twenty minutes, though it was two hours. _'Where are you? -MH' _To Sherlock, a question like that wasn't worth answering. Especially if it took two hours, or even twenty minutes to ask. It was a ridiculous question, nonsensical, ludicrous, absurd. Location. Why do people always have to know where someone is? It drove him insane.

He didn't text Mycroft back. He slouched down in the couch and turned on the television. The program was terrible. Everyone yelling about who was the father of this one child, and one of the possible father's had a sex change to female, blah blah. Crap telly. He loved it.

"Sherlock? Would you like one sugar or two?" called the voice from the other room.

Sherlock's eyes stayed locked on the television. Dancing past every pixel, noticing every detail about those on the screen. "Surprise me," he responded. He needed surprises. Everything's been so dull lately.

She came around the corner with two cups of warm tea. She handed Sherlock the blue cup whilst she drank out of the green. He took a sip, then she asked, "...Well?"

He smacked his lips and thought a bit. ".. Two sugars." He looked up and smiled. "Good choice, Molly."

Molly laughed, "I thought you were a 'two sugars' kind of fellow."

He took another drink. "I want to thank you again for letting me stay here for so long."

"Oh, don't you worry. Two years just flew by, yeah?" And Molly cherished every moment of those two years. She sat down next to Sherlock on the couch and took a deep sigh. "S-.. So.. Why'd you leave that comment on John's blog? I thought you wanted to stay.. erm.. what's it called again?"

His face was buried in the cup, eyes back on the television. "Incognito."

"Yeah! Incognito, that. What hapened to that?"

Sherlock's eyes shifted. He was actually pretty torn between going back to John or not. He knew something bad would eventually happen; he didn't know where, or when, or how, but he knew something would happen. He ignored those feelings, though. "I decided it's time to return."

She looked down. "Er.. Why?" A few moments passed, and Sherlock didn't do anything. He just stayed slumped down in the chair, eyes on the telly. ".. I mean, if it's alright if I ask why.. if.. that's okay."

His eyes drifted to Molly's. He sat up straight and said, "Molly. I want to teach you something."

"What's that then?"

"How to notice someone's emotions. It's very useful when trying to solve a case." He looked away from her. "Not just their outer emotion, but their inner emotions. How they're really feeling. Look at me, and tell me what you see."

Molly was a bit confused, but decided to just go with it. "Well.." She looked up and down Sherlock. "You're.. looking.. tired. Which would make sense, because you've been out late almost every night this week. Is that it? Tired?"

He was still, once again. "Look.. closer."

Molly tried. She studied every aspect of Sherlock, from how messed up his hair was, to the angle of his feet. Then she said, "Well... Your hands are a bit shaky. I suppose that means you're worried, or upset. And.. you won't make eye contact. Ah.. Usually I don't make eye contact with someone because I'm upset." She paused for a moment. "You're upset Sherlock. You're really.. really upset."

He looked at her. "Excellent job, Molly. Now, match my emotions with the current situation."

"Okay. Ah.. you're upset.. and," she paused, fitting all the pieces together. ". And you want to see John so you'll stop being upset?"

Sherlock sighed. "I'm not a "feelings" kind of person, Molly. They're useless and they distract humans from the bigger picture." He sipped some tea. "I'm bating in a tub filled with remorse and depression. It needs to stop. So, I'm returning to be rid of these feeling so I can be normal again."

Molly stuttered a bit. "B-.. but I thought you said normal was boring?"

Sherlock clenched his jaw. ".. Has anyone ever told you that you're a really good liar?"

"Yeah." She lightly laughed. "I try not to, but I usually do it when I think it's good. I thought it was good to tell John to forget about you, because I didn't know if you were going to go back to him or not."

He smiled, unconsciously. "No, you did the right thing." Sherlock stoop up, sat his cup down, and walked towards the door.

"Where are you off to?"

He threw on his coat. "It's time to go see my blogger." He silently shut the door behind him.

She laughed and picked up the remote to flip through the TV channels. Molly felt better. She felt better about everything, and she was happy for Sherlock, and for John. She felt that there was actually going to be a happily ever after this time around.

The thing is, Molly was never good at predictions.

II.

John was in a terrible state of mind. He looked at the computer screen over and over.

New Comment: "I miss you too, John. - Sherlock Holmes."

He was so broken. Every feeling was rushing to him at once. Angst, exhilaration, dread, vivacity, heartache. _Pure bliss and pure distress dancing together. _He could feel his heartbeat increasing, his palms sweating. He wanted to tear his hair out. He wanted to run through the streets of London and embrace every soul in happiness.

_No. This isn't Sherlock. _He thought. _Sherlock's dead. he's never coming back. He left you, John. He's dead and he's never, __**ever**__, going to come back._

New Comment: "John, you have to let him go. It's for the best. - Molly Hooper"

_Let him go, John. You have to. You'll never move on if you don't let him go._

John stood up and went into Sherlock's room for the first time in two years. He slowly opened the door and stood in the frame for awhile. He felt anger. Anger rushed over his entire body. He stumbled over to the dresser and knocked everything off it. Broken glass flooded the floor. He tore down posters, ripped up clothes, and banged his fists agaisnt the walls. John fell onto the bed. He was too weak to do anymore damage. His tears left giant stains of the sheets, and the tears just kept coming. Throughout the entire flat you could hear John sobbing, weeping out Sherlock's name. Thriving pain swept his body as well. He didn't know what to do.

_Forget about him. Forget about everything. Forget about __**all of it.**_

"Hello, John," he heard from the doorway. He swore to god his heart skipped a beat. He sucked up a couple tears, sat up, and looked at the tall figure in the doorway. They were covered up by the shadows, but you could still see their silhouette.

He swallowed hard before he could speak. "S-... Sherlock?"


End file.
